


To Preach Damnation

by Medikitty



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mental Instability, No happy endings, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, bestial human, half lycanthrope, half transformed, idk everything is blood in this game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medikitty/pseuds/Medikitty
Summary: Before their friendship, he wasn't sure where the elder was but it felt lonely and dark."t'would seem we have fallen into quite the predicament" The old hunter rumbled with a smug smirk as he gazed at the former priest.This is a story of collective memories leading to the end of Gascoigne and Henryk. From the first kiss to their own secrets to eventually Henryks collapse into madness.Rated M for a later chapters.





	1. The saint charade ends

_** "Oh master Henryk, please!  Please help me! ** **"**  the woman cried uncontrollably, collapsing onto her knees when she saw who came knocking on the door at such a late hour. _   
  
_** "Viola?  Whatever is the matter?  Where... where's Father Gascoigne?" ** _   
  
_** "That— that's exactly it!  H-he never returned from the hunt!  He always returns unless he delivers word to be elsewhere.  I thought, I thought perhaps he was with you but-" ** _

  
  
_     She buried her face with both hands, hiding the glistening tears as she sobbed. ' Yet, here I am...'  Henryk concluded her sentence in his mind.  His blood ran cold to her pleading cries, knowing well of the dreadful possibilities.  None were good. Kneeling down on one knee, both hands seized her arms tightly. _

__   
  
** "I will set out right away Mrs. Viola.  Keep the children inside and safe— And whatever you do, DO NOT come out during the hunt. " **

 

    Those last words echoed in his head, thrumming like a headache that wouldn't leave.  That was a week ago— or least he thinks.  The fruitless chase of the hunts duties blurred daylight and moonlight into a constant cycle where it was hard to differentiate.   
  
  
It was difficult to pinpoint where the man would be or what pattern he traveled without any essence of beasthood to track him by.  That was unacceptably risky... far too risky since the condemned man he was after was already succumbing.   
  
  
There was one last place... one he should have looked at first but was anxious about that location.  Too many preserved memories lay with the forgotten tombs.

 

** Too many... **   
  


 


	2. Prelude to a symphony of secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon Henryk has a thick 14th century English accent like the souls series uses. Gascoigne is Irish. 
> 
> Italics are memories.

_**"Oi ya alright, old man?"** _  
  
_The considerably taller man looked over at Henryk with a quirk of a brow, his axe slung over a burly shoulder oozed crimson.  Henryk clasped a gloved hand tight to his side, the orange leather of his coat transitioning into a wet maroon hue.  The elder managed to look up at the former priest with a small glare to the minor jab.   _

_**"Got me on the side of my hip, the damned beast."** _

_Cold stone blue eyes softened suddenly as Gascoigne made his way over to the sinking hunter, kneeling down with a harsh clatter of his axe.  He maneuvered his elder to lean against a large gravestone.  This was the first time he had seen the old hunter injured._

 

_**" 'ave any more vials on you, Henryk?"** _

_**"...hgn, no. "** _

_**"No matter."** _

 

_The priest reached out unbuttoning the long-coat from the bottom up, softly pushing aside Henryk's hand from the wound to open the jacket.  A gloved hand shot out to Gascoigne's bicep, fingers digging.  The hunters' jaw clenched to his hearts sudden reaction.  It felt horrible, like a snake had coiled around it, watching his partner in the amount of agony he was in. They have been partners for what felt like years, it could have been! It was hard to tell living in Yharnam for so long. The bleeding gash was deep, green corroding at the decaying flesh. Poison. _

_**"Ye' really picked a good one to get you."** He murmured reaching inside his own coat to pull out a small pouch and gently sliding it into Henryks cleaner gloved hand.  It lingered there for a moment, caught off guard by fatigued amber colored eyes looking up into his.  They reflected humility but gratitude and apology.  A lopsided smirk formed at the corner of his mouth.  _  
  
_Shuffling nearer, the priest pulled out a vile with a needle attached to its bottom.  Settling between Henryks propped legs; he waited for the old hunter to fumble with the antidote.  As soon as the man popped the antidote in his mouth, Gascoigne made his move. Leaning forward with his right hand gripping the gravestone for stability, the left jabbed the needled vile into the smaller man's thigh. The body below his squirmed, wanting to recoil as both aids performed their work simultaneously. With the loss of blood, it was going to take longer for the elder to recover, his heartbeat was faint._

_Henryk untied the strings of his neck piece, revealing his chapped lips and scruffy facial hair. His head leaned back against the gravestone, hat tipping forward to shadow his eyes, a distressed smile on his features.  _  
  
_**" Seems I am not as swift as I used to be, eh?" **  he jested hoarsely.  _  
  
_Gascoigne inclined his head enough to give the man a stern stare, **"Of all times to jest, you choose when ya' are in a critical state old man?** **"**_  
  
_ Henryk merely chuckled in reciprocation.  _  
  
_**"There' s no reason not to when I have such a loyal partner to depend on.  To be cared for and such... " **_  
  
_    Gascoigne stared agape at the amber eyes looking at him with a mirthful wink before closing.  As long as he knew the older man, he was one of few words.  No matter the situation.  They had established their own silent language through their partnership, friendship... companionship. When he was in a talkative mood however, every word was dripped with a lasting effect, the words buzzing through his body for days._

 _It made his heartache. Before their friendship, he wasn't sure where the elder was but it felt abandoned and morbid. These moments caused his heart to want to stop, make time stop and consider the pining in his own heart._  
  
_**" Henryk..." **  he breathed out, their faces already close from the priest having to restrain him while the blood did it's work.  Instincts must have kicked in because the next thing he knew, his lips captured the old hunters in a delicate kiss.  _  
  
_A hand brushed along the side of his face until it resided on the back of his neck, urging him forward._  
  
_When air was absolutely needed, Henryk's heart was racing.  He felt better already now with the help of his partner, the blood within him was able to course through himself much faster.  The smug smile never left when he examined the stone blue eyes piercing down at him.  There was horror and confusion stamped all over the former priests face._  
  
_**"t'would seem we have fallen into quite the predicament."**_

 

~~~~

 

    _'He_ _never told her did he..._ _'_ The old hunter mused crossing along a large bridge.  Scorch marks ran along the middle, blackening the stones.  Henryks eyes narrowed, crouching to inspect the age of the incident.  It was a Yharnamite trap.  


	3. Forgiveness in the unseen Forsaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Henryk, do you... fear me? " 
> 
> "No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A trip down memory lane begins. I have submerged myself full force into reading all the lore and theories throughout the game to piece together their tale. Let's see how it continues.

_**"Duck!"**  Hollered the smaller man in front of him.  A glint of metal whooshed passed him following a shriek behind Gascoigne.  The humanoid wolf fell in an instant behind the former priest.  He looked behind him to see the shimmering throwing knife fixed into the wolfs forehead.  The scent was stale, there was no fear in the creature as it died in an instant.  Henryk's reaction time didn't even grant it a moment to react.  He stared longingly at the oozing blood sprayed across the gravestones.  The hunter shivered.  _  
  
_**"... Gascoigne... "  **_  
  
_His head turned around only to jump in surprise as the old hunter was right behind him, another glinting knife at the ready.  Without warning the smaller man extended his arm, placing the blade parallel to Gascoigne's bearded jawline on his neck.  _  
  
_ Henryk bore a sad look in those amber eyes as he gazed at his hunting partner.  He wanted to look into the slate-hued eyes he always loved.  The eyes that carried more feeling than the dream they were stuck in ever bestowed upon him.  Instead, he was met with stained gauze.  Stained with blood from their hunt, stained from a beasts bloodlust._  
  
_**"Allow me to examine you."**  Henryk mumbled, dropping the saw cleaver to raise his other hand, a thumb rimming the bottom of the cloth.  A guttural growl resonated in the Gascoigne’s throat, but he remained obedient, bending down lower to aid the others hunters reach._  
 _Lifting the bandage up to peek at one of the man's eyes, Henryk pushed the knife tighter to Gascoigne's neck.  It was a warning— even if it was an empty one.  _  
  
_He didn't like to think of that possibility and even now examining a bloodshot eye with a constricted pupil like a wolf's—  he knew couldn't do it.   **" Mmmn, that essence"** The large hunter groaned, his face pushing into Henryks palm almost like a pet would to its master.  The red constricted pupil never tore itself away from the old hunter as it suddenly dilated.  Henryk stiffened.  It aroused something in him he shouldn't have felt in a moment like this.  He was a hunter after all, and blood was like water and beasts were nothing but a chore.  Nevertheless, he remained frozen to what he thought was fear.  _  
  
_A mighty bandaged hand snatched his wrist with an iron grasp.  He was jerked closer, Gascoinge grazing his nose along the jacketed forearm as if he were following a trail.  The elders eyes followed until they fell onto four gashes on his arm.  He was too concerned in watching over the younger hunters stability to even notice he was hit.  _  
  
_**"Warm... sweet and temptations Henyrk.  You really ought to be more careful. ** **"** The former priest rumbled, his tone anything but holy.  That cocky smile tugged on his lips revealing growing canines.  The old hunter remained still, the knife loosening ever so slightly from his partner's neck, his digits trembling softly.  Music box... where was the music box?! _  
  
_**" Henryk, do you...  fear me? "  **_  
  
_**"No."**_  
  
_ Henryks hand was suddenly released as the priest straightened himself and took a step back.  He blindfolded his eye again and spat at the ground in agitation, _  
  
_**"Lying is useless Henryk. I can smell it all over ye'”**_  
  
_Amber eyes suddenly narrowed in an icy glare.  Was this some sort of test?_  
  
_**"I—  tch!  Bastard!  What was that? "**_  
  
_He walked briskly ahead, tossing the throwing knife onto the ground.  When in striking distance a fist landed into the larger man's torso.  It was like hitting a wall. Henryk cared not, his blood boiled as he gritted his teeth angrily underneath his neck piece.  _  
  
_**"Don't toy with me like that!"**  He snarled, eyes daring to pierce up at the gauzes._  
  
_**"Oh no, that was real, friend.”**_  
  
_**“ Wanted to see where you lie for the day I have no restraint.  When I have been... consumed. "**_  
 _ Henryk remained silent, his hands subconsciously clenching into the other man's robes.  Lowering his gaze, the hunter pressed his head into Gascoigne frame.  He was relieved his face was concealed, he didn't comprehend what he was feeling only that he trembled slightly.  To prevent his legs giving way, he clung tighter until Gascoigne snaked an arm around his waist._  
  
_They were silent for a long time, the stench of blood filling their nostrils as a beast in the distance howled to the blood moon.  That time was approaching faster than the hunter wanted to admit to himself.  He couldn’t be vexed with his partner, not when every attempt to broach the topic was instantly shut down or purposefully distracted. Gascoigne could only use his trained force through the Black churches tactics to make Henryk open his eyes.  He knew the risks from when they discovered his illness. Knew it even when convincing the League to allow his cooperative partner to be the large priest and the consequences that would follow. Vermin seemed to litter the areas they patrolled and the hunter was aware— aware of the reasoning. _

  
_He watched too many allies, foes and friends succumb to the various consequences of the uses of the old blood, and the ministration of blood he himself indeed used. Henryk swore to do everything in his power to delay the effects. The league had connections through the Church and the academy which produced the very same music box he had. The sound that currently  filled his hearing as Gascoigne rumbled its melody in his throat to soothe Henryk._

  
_It made something stir again within himself, he wouldn't be surprised if the younger hunter had noticed as well.  The hunts were beginning to sink into him, adrenaline taking longer to wane everytime he went out.  The rush washing over him to eagerly continue and slaughter.  It was sensation he had to fight against every now and then, a drunken thirst._  
  
_**"Could you forgive me, father?"**  He muttered in an almost inaudible whisper through his garb, his gaze looking back up to his companion. That feeling could only be bottled up for so long. The amber stare was ominous as he added._

  
  
**_"... I have sinned. "_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated as usual. Sorry for the delay of an update!


	4. Seduction of the Scourge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is that—" 
> 
> "Makin' do with what we 'ave. Can't be killin' ye now old man, not like this. Just imagine Eileen's reaction. "
> 
> Rated M fellow hunters!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a lot with this chapter wanting this scene to be portrayed in a specific way.

_Gascoigne looked at his elder warily, a wayward pair of eyes gleaming at him. The old confederate was taunting._

 

**_"This is a dangerous game you're playin' at, Henryk..."_ **

 

**_"You want to test me, aye? To test us. Here you have it."_ **

 

_Henryk stepped backward with a coy look, hopping up to sit on a monumental headstone coffin. Curiosity struck him, regarding the forced hesitation his partner displayed._

 

_His symptoms must be worsening the hunter assumed somberly. Any other time the late priest would be reckless upon such an offer after a vigorous night of animosity and adrenaline. He made a mental note to give the music box to Viola and consider her to explain the ordeal to the children. Just because he suffered in a sickening denial doesn't mean they had to as well, not with the girls._

 

_To grab the others attention, Henyrk raised his bleeding arm to allow the breeze of the cool night waft the scent in the air. As expected, Gascoigne's head snapped over to the senior who merely sat with his head cocked to the side._

 

**_"I am afraid I have no antiseptic nor bindings... would’st thee spare me your methods father?"_ **

 

 _He was teasing, and the former priest knew it. Every step forward exhilarated his senses. He could feel the canines developing, nails aching to transform into claws. It wasn't just a battle of trust, but a battle for **control**. _ _Gascoigne pried the skilled hunter's legs ajar to arrange himself in between. An amused smirk appeared on Henryk's face, a hand lifting up to untie his neckpiece so his face was visible. Grasping the arm raised slackly Gascoigne secured it close, and eyes fluttering shut to savor the sweet scent of living, unscourged being._

 

_The wounds still seeped out scarlet fluids, the material around it torn enough to distinguish them clearly. Casting one last glance sidelong at Henryk, the younger hunter dipped his head down._

 

_Henryk sucked in a harsh breath, his body tensing to the sudden stinging sensation coursing through his arm. The priests widely brimmed hat screened his actions but It was obvious what he was executing. What the elder lured him to do. The canines slightly punctured the skin as the beastly man doubled-over to lap and suckle the wounds till they were cleansed ravenously. Henryk could merely place his sick arousal to the thrill of the danger he was committing to. The startling fear that at any moment his beloved partner could break and his quick wits wouldn't be able to stop him._

 

_Craning his head up, the priest panted intemperately. Shades of maroon stained his lips and beard, those canines noticeable from his parted lips against the pale moon. Blood intermixed with saliva trickled down his jowls, a breathy chuckle escaping him._

 

**_"Oh that look in yer eyes, more alluring now than any other time we had a fun rut!"_ **

 

_Henryk remained silent._

 

_Gascoigne didn't mind, refocusing his drunken attention to binding the injury with some spare wrappings. The hunt consumes all in the end, in spite of the old hunter resisting against his fate for longer than most. It was admirable, even if he discovered the old blood had begun its consumption— if only just._

 

_The former priest could hear his senior hunters shuddering breaths; the flesh warm and twitching in anticipation under his hands. Such a stubborn mule._

 

**_"Mmm it's gotten hold of you old man, the thirst of the hunt? It's rush of adrenali-"_ **

 

_Before he could conclude the sentence he was forcibly wrenched forward by his scarf as cracked lips collided with his own bloodied pair. Gascoigne stiffened, masked eyes widening by the sudden action Henryk took to evade the conversation. The beast-like senses sharpened, claws aggressively pushing through cuticles, canines lengthening—_

 

_**"Hng! Bloody hell Henryk!"** He forced the kiss to break, jaw clenching and with a 'pop' he hovered over the other man— legs now transformed. His brain boiled furiously with instinctual thoughts, thoughts that he tried so hard to gag and hide. _

 

_**"Gascoigne, Eyes up boy! At me."** Henryk commanded sternly, his voice rumbled through his throat. The church hunter obeyed, claws jerking against the stone coffin the confederate sat on. The sound was ear-splitting, but that wasn't going to keep him from slipping his hands underneath the elaborate holy scarf to wrap around the back of his companion's neck. For a few gasps, they remained frozen, amber glowering up to the scruffy priests face. Nimble digits kneaded Gascoigne's thick neck until slowly, ever so slowly did he begin to ease into the touches. _

 

_A giant clawed hand shakily wrapped around Henryk's lithe waist before edging the man forward. He could sense the rapid heartbeat thudding in the senior's chest. It sounded like heavy hoofbeats, sustaining a rushing rhythm. With his turn to surprise, Gascoigne leaned over  Henryk and without warning, sank his teeth into the man's neck._

 

_Gascoigne pushed into his partner until he was submitted to laying back against the grating stone. The fierce outcry followed by the harsh grasping at the nape of his neck had his chest heaving hollowly. Henryk wriggled beneath him, his boots scrambling for a grip on the side of the coffin, his back arched upwards. Dizzying. He didn't know if it was from the blood loss or the unusual sensations of being rendered nearly helpless. Deft hands sunk down in between their battered bodies until it met the delicious warmth it was seeking._

 

_A bold squeeze and the man above him released the latch on his neck emitting a grating moan. His hips thrust forward to the fondling, the old hunters' fingers working at the belts and latches feverishly. With a final 'clink' his task was complete, only to have his own trousers torn and ripped to shreds._

 

_" **Charming, old friend."** Henryk commented dryly that was reciprocated with a hearty laugh._

 

_Gascoigne is still in control he thought relieved._

 

_" **Apologies but these just weren't going to do, mate."** _

 

_Gascoigne raised up his hand, showing the cracked claws to him. Henryk merely hummed with an eye-roll._

 

**_"Then do make them useful before the palemoon"_ **

 

**_" 'ave you missed me that much?"_ **

 

_Silence._

 

_Gascoigne dipped down to capture the Confederates to ease the older man's prickly mood. Henryk accepted the offer eagerly, savoring the metallic taste they shared. He could feel the smile of his partner's victory and gave the part-beast an agonizingly rough stroke. A grunt sounded before he felt a large hand graze down his side, stopping above the hip. Pulling away he flipped the smaller man over on his stomach, the same hand firmly pressed between Henryks shoulder blades._

 

_Henryk scrambled to find his grasp onto something, arms stretching above his head to grip the edge on the Headstone. He could hear Gascoigne hum lowly in approval before there was a sound of porcelain shattering behind him. With a strong pull he managed the prop himself up on his elbows, the force of his companion's hand was like dead weight, pinning him._

 

_That odour..._

 

**_"Is that—"_ **

 

**_"Makin' do with what we 'ave. Can't be killin' ye now old man, not like this. Just imagine Eileen's reaction. "_ **

 

_A witty comment was coming to mind to throw when suddenly Henryk gasped, shuddering breaths escaping him. The fresh neck wound throbbed as blood rushed downwards to the teasing of the ring of constricting muscles._

 

_Only a chuckle resonated behind him before he felt a thick thumb ease its way in._

 

_Frozen still the confederate waited, the pain inside him had his teeth grinding. Cautiously the former priest had the digit fully engulfed inside him. Henryk felt the slicked touch of the other hand rest on his right cheek of his ass—palm warm. Those fingers busied themselves— fondling the scraps of remaining material of his trousers._

 

 _Henryks breath quivered as he exhaled from the stinging shock, hands gripping the edge of the stone desperately. It wasn't the first time, far from it but he could admit perhaps it had been too long. When the burlier man swirled his thumb around, reacquainting the warm cavern Henryk bit his lip as a stifled whimper leaked out._ _The smaller hunter squirmed underneath Gascoigne's grip, tiny droplets of sweat collecting at his temples._ _When he no longer felt the invading prickling, he edged himself backward enough to signal to his partner the go ahead._

 

_The partially transformed Lycanthrope sounded a noise of acknowledgment, resuming his work. Hind legs pressed against the coffin, he towered back over his wicked companion, withdrawing his idle hand and placing it next to Henryks forearm. His body radiated heat as it grazed against the body beneath him._

 

_The hushed groans and pleading whimpers were euphoric, The priest having to sink his hand into the coffin. Pray the poor soul inside was actually dead and not just scourged._

_" **Hen— Are, ah~ Are ye sure?"** The hunter grunted breathily into the confederates ears as he removed his practiced hand to prepare himself. He pushed onwards, _

 

**_"There's no knowing—"_ **

 

**_"Yes."_ **

 

_Amber eyes peeked over a leathered shoulder at him with a determined look. " **If I am to go down to the scourge, i'd rather it be with my partner than to madness."** _

  


~~~~~~

 

Henryk trekked the black scorch marks along the wrecked bridge pondering what...or who set it off. His concentration was skewed as he remembered where he was going.

 

Those nails, gripping into hips in urgency. There were scars— there were many, like white freckles trailing his hips. That was the last time they were intimate, the last time Henryk felt Gascoigne for all he was.

 

Those kisses still burned into his skin, bites still evident on his nape. The sounds echoing amongst the headstones were beast-like, spurring one another with snarling threats and whimpered promises until they could no longer be in control.

The old hunter could still feel vividly recall his body trembling uncontrollably to the sounds of joints popping, limbs elongating. It was hard to tell if it were fear or excitement, or perhaps both. If he wasn't in such a desperate state feening for more as the priest thrust into the delightful spot that sent his stimulated mind reeling...

 

No, all the more he wouldn't have cared nor would he doubt the trust of his priest. Perhaps his personal morals? but in this godforsaken nightmare what even were morals!

 

Bloody caked boots moved him until he was at the steps to the exact place of scared words and touches. The Tomb of Oedon.

The Confederate peered around, eyes narrowed as if he just awoke from a walking slumber. Something felt off...

 

_'Quiet...'_

 

No growls from nearby werewolves of canine beasts. Not even the haunting caws of the crows.

The hunter's throat suddenly felt dry as he proceeded warily up the ragged stairs to the graveyard. When he got to the top, his blood went cold. Amber eyes were expanded, pupils constricted to tiny black dots to the dreadful sight before him.

 

**"No..."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. it was an Oil Urn
> 
> Somewhere in Old Yharnam Djura is happy crying "Finally my beast activist days are paying off"


	5. In a Crow's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are more family to me than any marriage, Henryk! Family is not bound in blood nor in contract, it is found within our hearts. If ya can't feel that by now...you are neither beast nor human..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and I mean that in the saddest bleakest way possible ;;
> 
> Please leave feedback and enjoy!

Crows.

 

Creatures feared as bad omens, despised by their tricky inquisitiveness and, at times, dutiful demeanor. No one ever glances at them long enough to recognize their woeful eyes, a pit of knowledge beyond the realms of the forgotten. 

 

I can see it. They are my sights when I look to the bleeding skies...They are my ears when I listen beyond the weeping aches of never-ending death. 

 

The mournful caws have been sung.

 

A hunter has fallen... 

 

...and another must be **hunted**. 

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

I knew from the flock that flew up high, encompassing the location like a beacon, that my calling was to one I would not forget. 

 

Boots heavily scuffing the pavement as though they were weighted down by lead, I followed my lead. Corpses scattered like a crumb trail, aged yet fresh enough that the metallic stench hadn't grown pungent. They were not mangled like an attack from a beast, but killed decisively as if they had been put down by some manner of weapon. Most likely by a skillful shot from a powerful rifle or a clean cut from a dangerously sharp axe...

 

Such weapons were only used by trained foreigners and brave local men in a feeble attempt to balance the eternal cycle of the moon’s merciless mischief. I prayed my immediate assumptions were wrong. For not even my mind could stomach thinking their names even if I had mentally prepared myself beforehand— I simply couldn't. And I allowed the cruelty of denial to twist my mind despite knowing better, about the scourge and about Father Gascoigne. The scourge was privy to no one and did not discriminate on it’s victims; and all of the Hunters were aware that Father Gascoigne was on a chained leash. It is not known if he arrived here originally due to surfacing symptoms or if it was a poor hand he played upon entering this forsaken place. 

 

Henryk, despite his wit, ignored what most hunters would have laid to rest— Including myself. Seasoned in age and in practice he must have known eyes loomed over the tall hunter, waiting, coiled for the moment to pounce as soon as a hint of the scourge sparked. Perhaps that’s why he decided to take on an apprentice; not that he would say his reasons, content to keep to himself to the end.

 

I keep walking forward as I reach the great bridge that connected Yharnam to Odeons Chapel, scorched bricks lining down the middle as the wafting scent of burnt flesh went through my nostrils as I observed a Yharnamite trap. Sluggishly I walk up the steps to span over the long walkway filled with antiquated desolation. Crows settle among the iron railings as if to confirm that my leads so far had me on the appropriate path to my target. I watched as a few scuttled around to peck at the brunt carrion. The one perched on the railing tilted its head, black beaded eyes loomed in melancholy as if I were one with their flock and were aware of the deed that must be done. 

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

_ “I think it a wise decision.”  _

 

_ The former hunter leaned against the Gatling gun, a lopsided smirk eased onto his features staring down into the charred ruins of Old Yharnam. I couldn’t see his remaining eye, but I could imagine it glistens with a sense of pride regarding the topic at hand. How it happened I am not quite sure, but the old hunter of the league managed to convince the leader to accept the former Father as his partner. Henryk had been in the league, doing more than plenty to prove himself a valuable veteran to their purpose, even if his verbal input was scarce.  _

 

_ “I don’t think—” _

 

_ “Then don’t.” The retired powder keg hunter said with an airy tone before continuing. “The truth of the matter is no one knows what that man thinks. If ya’ want my opinion, I’ll give it.”  _

 

_ I remained silent for a moment, all too aware of the answer I sought, yet felt as though I needed to hear it from the mouth of another; mayhaps to quell my writhing thoughts.  _

 

_ Eventually, I finally gave him a reply. “Then speak.”  _

 

_ His head twisted to look at me, the singular eye akin to a million lifetimes captured in a singular orb. So much desolation—anguish. Even as he smiled and jested freverlently, the shade of dismal grey coloring his iris narrated a different, unspoken tale.  _

 

_ “Henryk is doing what all we hunters had pledged to do: protect the innocent from the beasts. He’s savin’ a life, lass; don’t let the smoke and fire veil your eyes from that truth.”  _

 

_ >>>>>>>>>>>  _

 

 

 

I didn’t understand at that moment what he saw. Perhaps it was due to my isolation from any leagues or covenants. Mayhaps inexperience. Whatever the case may be, Djura knew of the truth, and I would have to lay my trust on that note and keep my sights wide— my ears clear. 

 

Halting at the steps up to the small graveyard I felt myself sidestepping to look below into the sewers. Large mangy rats scurried below, scuffling for any remains they could catch the scent of. Hunters were much the same, weren’t they? They are nothing more than rats. 

 

>>>>>>>>>>>

 

 

_ "So, this it then? Years of a bound partnership shattered 'cause I am expectin' a daughter?" _

 

_ ‘ ...Is that? ’ _

 

_ My head jerked sharply in alarm, the man’s voice echoing along the vast tunnels of the sewers. A sharp swishing sound and another rat's shrill cry echoed through the sewers. If it weren't out of boredom, it was a way for the slimmer hunter to express himself. _

 

_ "Henryk," Gascoigne's voice growled, a feral resonance interlacing in his tone. The burlier hunter sounded heated. And as luck would have it, a ladder was within the sewers that allowed me to perch right above them, my sights keen and my hearing strained. I observed them from within the shadows along the bridge steps.  _

 

_ Gascoigne's temper flared as he seized a gloved hand that was raising to flick another.  _

 

_ To my surprise, I saw the veteran halt, his head jerking up in his partner's direction. He mumbled something I couldn’t make out. _

 

_ Tawny eyes went to tear away until a large, bandaged hand caught it. The taller man loomed over him, leaning down until heated puffs of air bounced off Henryk. To anyone else, it would be facing death head-on. Even I felt myself uneasily shifting on the balls of my feet, ready for anything. However, the smaller man remained unphased, not even flinching to the digits firmly clenching around his jaw.  _

 

_ Gascoigne's throat rumbled something I hadn’t expected, something that left a shiver run down my spine. His voice bounced along the old brickwork and up the walls, to make his point clear: _

 

_ "You are more family to me than any marriage, Henryk! Family is not bound in blood nor in contract, it is found within our hearts. If ya can't feel that by now...you are neither beast nor human..." _

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

 

I wonder to this day if that is what Djura saw between them. The old man was known to be foolish—and I agree—however, he had something most of us would envy, a foreign emotion that kept him sane in a world where any other hunter had to sacrifice to achieve the same. 

 

After that day, my watch over them was no longer needed, making myself present instead and offering assistance when I could. 

 

By the second child, the symptoms became unmistakable within The Father. Eyes required to be swathed and even Henryk had something special built from the workshop to help keep his partner in check. Hunt after hunt I would look after them from afar, far enough Henryk shouldn’t have been able to detect me and if he did, the veteran never let on. I witnessed various sides to them I knew not existed, with a few I wished I didn’t. 

 

**_BANG_ **

 

A flock of crows frantically soared up to the skies from the location of the \ graveyard. I felt my heart jolt to the ear-splitting sound of gunpowder and metal and feared the worst as my heart rapidly pounded against my chest. 

 

**“Henryk.”**


End file.
